Snowhite - 粗目
by Our Brightest Stars
Summary: There was a legend in her clan of a Shirayuki, who's beauty transcended even death, and of a daimyo who fell in love with a corpse. Of a snake who brought her back to life for a price, cursing their descendants. Orochimaru thinks that she might be more than just a legend made real, but curses are no joke...She plans to end the cycle with herself.[SI-as-trans!Orochimaru. Drabble AU]
1. Origin & Cold

Cold.

It spread across her cheekbones and throat, clenching in a cool vise. Even when her mother held her, the coldness didn't abate very much, if at all. Sometimes, when she opened her eyes, all there was as far as the eye could see was a blank whiteness: snow. She did not shiver despite this.

No, tremors were not something she experienced anymore.

Rather, she felt so very numb and tired, like she could sleep forever. A never ending sleep where nothing changed and where she appeared to be frozen in time. A chilled corpse. Dead. But then a finger would twitch or she'd sneeze like a baby bunny, and then it would become clear that, that was not the case.

She did not question this. There was no point and she didn't have energy nor motivation. Instead, she accepted the situation for what it was and existed as much as one could exist in her half-conscious state.

* * *

Sometimes, when the group she and her mother traveled with came to a stop to huddle together in the cold as they rested, an elder's voice cracked and warbled as he sang a ballad of sorts. Others would join in, spreading and sharingbthe story of their people, of their dubious origins that rested on a cursed beauty whose pallor reminiscent of the iciest of snow and a haphazard couple whose union ended in bloodshed. A reminder and warning of their history, of what might just be repeated once again if they didn't pass this on to every generation of their small clan, lest they be wiped from the face of the world once again.

She could remember her mother crooning under her breath, leather–gloved fingers stroking her face tenderly, murmuring about a girl who endured torture and death and rape and murder and survived despite it all. Cursed and bitter, a clan thar sprung from murky beginnings that many would spit upon and sneer in disgust. Still, they would not turn away. They would not forget, lest it happen once more.

(in the shrouded cave where a diminished clan sang about their shady and horrific past as they huddled close to survive the night, a mother confided to her baby that the time of turnover was upon them and history would indeed repeat itself and just how beautiful her little baby was, with a face as white as the cold and deadly snow around them, just like their founder...)

* * *

 _(for what it was worth, she had only been two years old at the time, so she had done rather well than most children in her situation. Of the forty-strong clansmen, nineteen were below the age of twelve. Of those nineteen, only three survived besides herself. Of the rest of the clan, two teenagers, one adults, and all nine of the elders also perished. The last thirteen were the only ones to survive the trip from the Land of Frost into the Land of Fire._

 _Another four clansmen died on the last leg of the trip from the border to Konoha. Three more contracted illnesses native to the Land of Fire and died while the de-facto leader went through the process of securing immigration papers for the nearly extinct clan._

 _She had been blessed. One of the few to have survived as long as she did, to last despite of all the unlucky circumstances working against herself and her rag-tag clan..._

 _...she never felt all that lucky when she became the last one remaining not long after, the new year not even having begun yet before the Zarameyuki clan drew to an end, down to the last orphan. For just as her mother predicted, her clan's history turned over once again and a Shirayuki was left alone to fend for herself with an uncertain future full of what could only be suffering and death)_

* * *

Her name was Orochimaru Zarameyuki, the last of the Shirayuki bloodline, and this was her second lifetime.


	2. Smoke & Breath

Orochimaru often thinks about the woman that was probably her mother. Normally when she does this, she also contemplates the dark ceiling of the shared bedroom from her place on the cramped futon that she shared between two other little kids. Gently displacing the foot that had been pressing insistently against her spleen, the last clan–child breathed in deeply before letting out an exhale slowly.

She could see her breath, and it reminded her of the lazily curling smoky air that often filled their studio apartment. Her mother fiddling with her pipe before taking another drag beside the open window. The late evening noises of the village drifted into the room, the muted–blue light of the sky outline the smoking woman in a dark silhouette.

Rain spattered on the window sill and the cool breezes made some droplets fly further to land on the tatami–mat flooring.

 _(Orochimaru was cold, but she didn't shiver)_

Dumping some of the pipe-ashes into in the iori, a sandy-pit that survived as their hearth and sole source of heat, the smooth scale-skin of her mother shined briefly from a chance ray of light from the street lamps. The woman glanced over and made a small grunt, clearing her throat.

"Musuko, come here, let me tell you a story."

And then Orochimaru would go and crawl into the woman's lap, breathing in the scent of cloves and a lotion made from the butter of some similar to a shea nut, and cheap herbal shampoo. Cool hands even colder than her face stroked her cheeks lovingly before carding through her long hair.

Absently studying the woman's face, mostly notably the watercolor-esque birthmarks that were splayed on every clansmens' eyelids, Orochimaru let out a contented sigh, her long eyelashes fluttering. Ochre eyes the color of a dying sun gazed off into the distance, foreboding and pensive.

"Our ancestors are descended from the one named Shirayuki, of whom you resemble greatly with a pallor like snow in the dead of winter and hair like wet charcoal made into ink. She was a supposed offshoot of an unknown clan that had once held a great power. Despite this power, the clan had been unable to prevent it's ultimate destruction, as it only had itself to blame for it's greed and pride. And so, Shirayuki had been the only accounted for survivor... " She began, voice steady and low as it fell into the long familiar cadence of retelling the origins and curse of the Zarameyuki clan.

Orochimaru, both in the past and the present, fell asleep to her mother's gravelly voice as the tragedy unfolded in her mind's eye.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 **Iori:Japanese cooking pit in traditional homes**

 **Musuko: son**

* * *

 **So, yes, I started a new fic, with good reason: I needed a de-stressor. I still plan to continue Lotus & Clover, but I'm overhauling it. Once I update it, I'll explain further in detail there. **

**So, until then, hi, welcome to Snowhite. Another SI fic. With Orochimaru. And backstory. And curses. Whoopie. I'll probably update once a day, maybe, for a while. Up until I don't.**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Stars.**


	3. War

Orochimaru wasn't much impressed with the way of life for an orphan. A life of either poverty or servitude in the military wasn't much of a choice. And for people like her, those who had come from a clan (no-name or not) or from shinobi parent(s), there was no choice given.

Apparently, while the Great Shinobi War may have ended, Konoha needed to replace its ranks to keep up the illusion of unflappable strength despite the heavy losses it had brought.

Still, being at the tender age of just-turned-three, Orochimaru had another year before she was at the minimum age to be poached and conscripted into the Shinobi Way of Life, where she would be trained for a paltry four to six years and set onto the Jōnin track or (failing that) the Genin Corps. Even if she continually failed the four year course twice over, once she was ten, it was straight into the Genin Corps.

Which, to be honest, the Genin Corps sounded preferable to the front lines for what would inevitably be the Second Great Shinobi War. Orochimaru wasn't stupid; these primitive people were even more violent-prone than the people back in her world. If World War Two was possible there, the equivalent for it would be indubitably on the horizon. And if war was, indeed, coming...

Orochimaru hesitantly looked over towards her cubby where a scroll (that more than likely older than her clan had been in existence) rested. If everything worked out, she wouldn't need it. Wouldn't need to learn the so-called art that had been passed down for generations.

Reluctantly sliding out of bed without jostling the two children sleeping either side of her expertly, Orochimaru weaved between the rows of occupied futons and out of the shared bedroom. Sneaking down the hallways in the early dredges of morning, she slipped into a deserted traditional room, the shogi door sliding shut behind her. Sinking down into a seiza before pausing and shifting to sit cross-legged. Stretching out one slender leg from that position, she began a series of flexibility exercises half-remembered from an old life ling past.

As they used to say back in her old world, better to be safe than sorry.


	4. Covert

Orochimaru doesn't know quite how she manages it, perhaps only because of the sheer number of other orphans, but she manges to continually slip under everyone's radar, the other children included. Of course, that didn't mean she was invisible, people could see or spot her just as easily as they could any other child. Other child would tug at her clothing and ask or whine about this or that as they would with any other "nee-chan".

 _(people often took her for a girl based on her rather delicate appearance and feminine mannerisms, Orochimaru never confirmed nor denied this, as neutral as her clothing)_

Orphans of all ages surrounded her, but they no more sought her out or avoided her than they would with any other kid that they happened to bump into. Sure, she looked a strange, but not really any stranger than some of the clanspeople that wandered around Konoha, especially other clans that were traditionally contracted with summons for generations. Probably one of the most eye-catching was the clan that grew horns out of their foreheads, had extremely hairy bodies , and oddly-shaped pupils that matched that of their goat summons. And then there were hair colors that came in all sorts of hues, eyes that came in all colors and shapes, clanmarkings of all kinds...

It was hard to stand out when you were only one of many and made no effort to either draw attention to yourself or obviously stand apart.

It serviced Orochimaru just fine for eyes to naturally glide over her to land on more interesting or eye-catching figures. It meant more time left to her own devices and less headaches to sigh over. It meant that her plan to be permanently on the sidelines and out of the more immediately life-threatening occupations was successful.

 _(Orochimaru may not have hid any of her intelligence or skills, but a person hardly needed to if no one was particularly paying any attention in the first place)_


	5. Literate

The year seems to pass by far too quick. Days sliding on by with little to distinguish one from the other. All were little of note for the most part and filled with a comforting rhythm. Routine is something Orochimaru swears by, because it makes any changes easily marked and things of note easy to pick out.

It's almost monotonous, but her will is strong, a stubborn attitude and force of habit enough for her to get through the days with a self-indulgent activity thrown in here and there. Calligraphy is pleasant pastime and with make for a useful skill later on.

 _(she hears that fūninjitsu is an invaluable art with few masters and wonders if this might be her way out of forced self-destruction instead)_

Between learning more of the language of this world and learning it's multiple written languages, she had her hands full, her development not that different from that if an actual child's... Strangely enough, the sort of bastardized language reminiscent of Japanese that her clan spoke was also the native lingo for the Land of Fire.

Further research gave Orochimaru the understanding that just like back home, each nation had it's own personal language. For the common tongue, the language was vaguely similar to Mandarin Chinese except archaic in its usage. Aldi, much like how in Quebec, Canada; children learned both Canadian French as well was English, so did the children in the Land of Fire learn the pseudo-Japanese and pseudo-Chinese.

In any case, this was mentioned to give an idea just how much a nightmare it was to memorize both kanji and hánzí, _especially considering kanji were derivatives of hánzí._ It was extremely difficult to keep the two separate, and most often than not, Orochimaru mixed up the two and unwittingly interchanged them on occasion.

Fortunately, at the moment, it added to the image of a intelligent child, emphasis on the child.

Still, nothing a little schooling couldn't fix, and on the spring of her fourth year, she joined many of the other orphan children forced to attend the academy. It was then that things took a turn for the unexpected but not entirely unwelcomed.

* * *

 **Not gonna lie, your reviews and support through favoriting and following are a large part for why I'm trucking through so many mini-chapters so rapidly. That and tiny little drabbles that don't need to be nearly as structured as a normal chapter are a lot easier to write quickly.**

 **Thanks you guys, I'll try to continue to live up to expectations lol**


	6. Test & Inspire

The one thing that Orochimaru didn't account for, was placement tests.

It hadn't occurred to her that the Village was in such a desperate state where they would even speed up the short four year tenure by placing children in more advanced classes according to skill. Speeding up the path to their destruction.

It didn't even occur to her to fake her results... She had forgotten that most four-year-olds still didn't know most than the most basic of maths and were only really just starting to know their reading and writing. Maybe only just starting to learn the common tongue outside of their Japanese.

Sure, she made sure to be sloppy and just do the test quickly, forcibly increasing the likelihood of mistakes, but it hadn't been enough.

 _(in war time, three years of pure basics were given, making children literate enough to read their mission orders and write mission debriefs. To given them just enough of a foundation to start on. The rest were spent purely on what they needed to do to survive longer than a year in the field)_

The day after the placement tests, orientation was given.

Dozens of kids were ushered in front of the academy building and sat into lopsided rows on the lawn. Assorted adults lined the edges sporadically, keeping both a watchful eye on the group and looking on in interest.

A man moved to the front, sandals near-silently walking on the gravel path. Clad in a simple, short-sleeved, blue shirt kimono with mesh armour underneath, held closed by a pale yellow sash and completed with blue ninja pants, the man looked no different from any other shinobi. Although, with his wild mane of white hair and three markings on his face, he was likely from a clan... An important person though, if all the adults' sudden alertness and excitement were anything to go by.

Burgundy eyes the color of finely aged wine gazed around his young (and not-so-young) audience, make spines straighten to attention and eyes widen as they focused on him. Chatting, yelling, whispering, and laughing, all of it, died down until silence reined along with anticipation.

"While I have your attention," he began, "And before I turn you over to your instructors, I'm going to speak to you about what you just signed yourself up for yesterday afternoon. Becoming shinobi, warriors of the Leaf who fight for the village to protect the good of this nation and defend all we hold dear. It is an honor to serve among our ranks and a privilege to wear our symbol. It's a lifetime duty and commitment to the cause... To uphold the Will of Fire."

People craned their necks out of windows in hopes to spot him, peering out of doors and around corners. Patrons stood outside shops with owners of businesses. Pedestrians stood in the streets, listening and unconsciously drawing in closer. On the rooftops and in branches of trees above roosted shinobi of all sorts, looking proud as they bore witness to the new generation being indoctrinated.

"I understand that many of you here have lost someone, from being in the line of duty or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time... I, too, have lost someone: my brother, Harashima. So I understand what loss means, and I understand why you stand here in front of this building. What it means for you to be here... Not only because it's 'cool'."

There were a few chuckles from the dry quip, some children looked extremely sheepish. Orochimaru reserved judgement.

"I look forward to working with each and every one of you. And may you some day surpass me, for the good of the Village... And for the good of future generations." With a curt nod, he made a gesture towards a middle-aged gentleman holding a long list before striding away, the speech obviously done with. It was short, but the point was made and morale boosted. It served as both inspiration and a reminder to all the shinobi-hopefuls here. That this career was for life, so to make the most of it and be the best asset you could be.

The volume slowly returned as people disbursed back to what they had been previously doing an children fidgeted. The academy worker started calling out names in a loud voice, sorting them into classes of about fifteen. After the last student for the third class had been called... Orochimaru still remained.

Her name hadn't been called at all.


	7. Fodder

Orochimaru sat there in shock as the last of the other children disbursed into the Academy, leaving just her on the threadbare lawn. Apprehension filled her as the instructor who had been listing off names approached her with an unreadable expression, eyes murky and muddled. "Zarameyuki-kun?"

"Yes," she answered shortly, a slight quiver in her voice.

"Maa, don't worry, you're not in trouble or anything... but there is a bit of a problem, your scores... Normally we would ask your guardians but considering the circumstances, you've been automatically pushed ahead."

"Because I'm an _orphan_?" Orochimaru asked incredulously, only to bear a grimace. Because of course. Orphans started younger. Orphans didn't have choices concerning their future. Orphans were little better than _canon fodder_. The more talented they were, the worse it was because suddenly they were somewhat of an asset. Only, because of the war on the horizon, there would be no 'nurturing' her supposed 'talent'. What would have been fortune, an accomplishment, to anyone else in a different time of relative peace, was merely a quicker death sentence to her.

Because she was an orphan from a dead clan who's supposedly a genius. Cannon fodder.

 _Not on her fucking watch._

"What class am I in, Sensei?" Unknowningly saving the older man from an awkward situation by giving him something else to respond to, Orochimaru planned to do whatever it took to climb to the top and _survive_.

Because the only way _anything_ was going to change was if she took the initiative and changed it herself. That man who gave the speech, told them, no, _challenged_ them to surpass him? Fine, Orochimaru was going to do exactly that, and more.

She was going to make them all regret ever forcing her and others like her into this situation.

For the good of the Village, indeed.


	8. Development

Being the youngest in your class is more than a little unsettling.

Because Orochimaru knows that some of these children are only three years older then her. Imagine that, seven-going-to-be-eight-year-olds graduating in less than a year. The idea of eight-year-olds on a battle field at all, sickens her but there is nothing that can be done. Not when they've signed their own death warrant. Not when all the people in power, all the adults' seem to think it's a good thing for their children to be made into soldiers.

Mass brain washing and total propaganda about this all being 'for the good of the Village'. It was everywhere and well entrenched into daily life, so normal it's an everyday thing, given. Idealized and internalized. Somewhere between a monarchy and a military-state.

But when Orochimaru takes history class...she begins to wonder. Wonder if the real reason no one saw anything wrong with the status quo was because what the life situation was before was even worse... Was that much more precarious...

Guest speakers came in and talked a bit about how life was before the Village was founded, a scant decade ago, what people had to do to just _survive._ About the Warring Clans Era and the battles and atrocities that took place... All the deaths... It wasn't much better that something from Game of Thrones, with a lot more dying of dysentery and infections and illnesses. And wayward jitsu from battle.

With so many people banding together and pooling resources, it was a definite step up from before, so it was no mystery why everyone was so pro-Konoha and the whole Will of Fire thing... There really wasn't a 'right way' or a 'wrong way', just differences in opinions and standpoints. This was pretty much this world's version of the Pre-Industrial Revolution, with children laborers. In her old world's history, there had been such a thing as orphan child working in coal mines... Was it really so different here? At least here, most of them volunteered readily enough; even if like the children back at home, they didn't have much of a choice.

That still didn't make it okay that children soldiers were a thing by Orochimaru's standards, but that was fine. What was happening now was only a stage in development in Konoha's relatively new society, what it _needed_ at the moment to support itself.

Instead of scorning it through or accept and ignore the glaring issue, she was going to nudge Konoha's, forcibly or otherwise, the next stage.

For one thing, the main fighting forces wouldn't be anyone below the age of at least sixteen. Some exceptions may apply, but not without several good reasons. Eight was just outrageous.


	9. Scheduling & Money

Despite being in placed in the last year possible, there were a few comprehensive courses given to students who were ahead of their age-peers but lacking in some respect in comparison to the class they were moved forward to. Like in their physical ability or things like Konoha Law and the geography of all the nation's. Or Kunoichi classes.

Essentially, Orochimaru's day went like this:

 **9:00am:** Full five hour day of courses spent learning about chakra in theory and in practical lessons. All pre-jitsu things of course, like sticking leaves to our foreheads... Or just to our bodies at all.

 **12:00pm:** Then a break for lunch when Orochimaru often didn't have anything to eat beyond what she secreted away from the extras at breakfast or dinner from the previous day, usually some extra rice that she squished into lopsided rice balls.

 **13:00pm:** One last class which contained just physical conditioning. "Just", she says. Having not had the support base of three years training from previous classes, it took nearly everything she had in herself to keep up. Having beyond good flexibility didn't change the difficulty level much, if at all, but somehow, she found herself towards the middle of the pack anyway. Orochimaru had a feeling of she had been fed better, she would have done better.

 **14:00pm:** Kunoichi classes happened next, and were honestly the best part of the whole school day. And no, it wasn't because the instructor gave mochi to students who did well in each area of the lesson (well, alright, maybe part of the reason). But the things they learned also seemed directly useful to Orochimaru. Things like cultural expectations for women in each nation. Ways to manipulate people using charm with them thinking it was their own idea in the first place. Tea ceremonies and the implications behind each different one. Flower arrangements and how to send secret messages, assassinate, or smuggle things with them. Different types of dancing and modified fighting techniques made to look like a type of dance. A special sign language only known to Kunoichi (universal modification and the one for Konoha). All of that and more, completely invaluable.

Class for that was often two hours and it was considered optional (optional! Just who in the right mind would be so stupid to miss something like this?). And Orochimaru would have an hour break afterwards.

 **17:00pm:** Then she rounded out the last of the school day with some requisite classes, mostly the knowledge so had been spotty in like geography and history and the like.

Weekends were weird in that Saturdays were half-days where the students completed D-rank missions along with the Genin Corps to get in the training of what taking missions with two other team members were like, so that if students were on the Jōnin path, they would immediately start on C-ranks. Teams were always mixed up between the two fourth year classes, so it was highly unlikely for the same student to get the same team configuration for a long while, which suited Orochimaru just fine for the time being.

Sundays were supposed to be their days off, but Orochimaru often understood them as days to practice on lessons taught to students, like the whole sticky-leaf thing. Sometimes to help herself fall asleep at night, she stuck herself to the sheets (which had the address bonus of preventing her two little bedmates from hogging them). Other times she practiced kata or learning more signs for the Kunoichi language. Or learned more kanji and/or hánzí. Or...just about anything really. Sometimes she went to the mission desk for D-rank that only needed one person for.

...It really said something about the state of the society she was in that it was perfectly acceptable for a four-year-old to look for odd jobs on their one day off of school.

Really, her goal was to apply for the Academy Student Housing Projects to make enough money for the studio apartments offered for those who could make rent which often came to be around 1,000 ryo per month, obscenely cheap by itself... But considering the heat, water, plumbing, electricity, and food bills needed to be paid for too? Not so easy a feat for an orphan with nothing to their name.

Orochimaru would stay in orphanage another year, maybe work up to having at least one D-rank a day if not more, and maybe then she could see about that housing. She'd much rather be over prepared than not enough, since she still wasn't sure how to access her mother's and/or clan's bank account, it if there was even one available to her. All she had for sure was her personal one the instructor helped her and her classmates set up.

Just one thing at a time.


	10. Complaints & Stagnation

One day often seemed to blend into another, and Orochimaru felt trapped.

Trapped in routine and being sent marching down a path that she didn't want to take. She didn't want to be a ninja, or a pawn in the greater scheme of things that was war. She didn't want to have her nose broken in training spars only to not have her instructor even bat an eyelash at this, have no one even question it or any black eyes she got blending in with her clan marks and stretch along her battered nose and cheekbones.

She didn't want to be patronized by well meaning temporary teammates, both male and female during D-ranks. She didn't want adults obviously watching her like a hawk in their stores, as if she so much as sneezed something would be broken or she'd cut herself on kunai and shiriken and senbon... Only to them otherwise ignore her already there injuries and disheveled appearance, or turn a blind eye for the most part when really did need assistance, unless she out right asked.

She hated it and inwardly revolted against the culture that allowed this.

Some of it, she knew couldn't be helped, considering her age and appearance. And that it was simply in human nature to ignore problems that weren't yours, unless it concerned you or it was literally your job to care, few and far between were there concerned strangers who would outright ask other strangers if they were alright when given the option to just walk away.

It just felt so much more magnified when put next to all the other cultural differences and annoyances.

Then there was the fact that she had a penis but was female... It terrified her to think about how that would be received in this culture considering the russian roulette of reactions back in her old life.

If Orochimaru had a choice, she'd remain a spinster calligraphy artist. Using colorful visuals and emotions attached to cursive words from her old world. She had a feeling it would be popular in the Capital, considering the high grades she got in Kunoichi classes in the fine art lessons. Either that, or be a nomadic hermit, a homeless vagabond who did odd jobs on the go like her clan used to be. Something like that.

Orochimaru never considered herself to be romantic at heart, but the daydreams she entertained said in truth, all the stagnation was getting to her, making her feel like her was in a timeloop where nothing changed or improved, despite knowing otherwise.

* * *

 _(Alone and scared, Shirayuki fled to the Far Lands of twisting rivers with their brackish waters and cypress trees with their tangled roots. By chance, she had been found and spared a cruel death of exposure... However her new minders were far from a noble sort, having done so only out of their own interests._

 _They had recognized her heritage for what it was on sight, knew that she belonged to clan with a special "power", thanks to her unique markings, and desired it greatly. The power was the only one left of its kind in the whole world, despite it still being unrealized yet. It remained unawoken and dormant within Shirayuki, so she could not be killed and consumed for it quite yet._

 _So, the Yamata no Orochi took her in under its not-so-tender care in order to nurture her talents. Raise her until such a time when the power would be activated and prime for the taking. More than enough for all eight heads of the mighty dragon to consume comfortably.)_

* * *

 **Yamata no Orochi - a famous Japanese dragon. "It had an eight-forked head and an eight-forked tail; its eyes were red, like the winter-cherry; and on its back firs and cypresses were growing. As it crawled it extended over a space of eight hills and eight valleys." It's eventually killed by the god Susanoo who tricked it into drinking too much sake and then slaying the dragon while it's in a drunk stupor. From fourth tail, came the kusanagi sword, one of Japan's three great treasures.**

 **The "special power" is in reference to a kekkai genkai or kinjitsu unique to clans, like the Nara clan with their shadows or Aburame with their insects or Uchiha with their eyes.**

* * *

 **I'm moving the updates to every other day for now, as between nightshifts at work and late afternoon college courses, I'm exhausted. I'm actually posting this before I sleep for the day lol.**

 **I do plan to continue the whole Shirayuki myth bits at a time as they become more thematically relevant. And just like the Shirayuki myth, Oro-chan's story is going to be quite sad;;**

 **And like Orochimaru from the anime, a bit messed up.**

 **But since this is an AU, it's all going to be a bit different from Canon. While some things will be a bit similar, like their thought processes and attitudes and how they are perceived by others, a lot of other things will be a bit different, such as experiments on live people...**

 **Ugh, wordy a/n.**

 **Basically, same but different. And lots of twists and turns. So, enjoy, and please leave a review on your way out!**

 **Much love,**

 **Stars.**


	11. Henge

When Orochimaru learns her first jitsu, it feels like finally, _finally_ , this world has opened up with possibilities. The henge jutsu: you truly become the form you take.

The only real draw back to this is the more radical the change and the longer it's held, the more exorbitant the chakra cost. So, turning into something like, say, air or mist, for even just a few minutes means complete chakra depletion for anyone below, say, a Jōnin. And then senses can be muddled or muted or even negated depending on what you turn into.

So, there were some finely drawn limits, but otherwise? A priceless jutsu, especially because it **_wasn't an illusion._**

It takes her only days to break down the process and refine it to an art form, or rather, one form in particular.

* * *

 _(Orochimaru becomes the person she used to be for twenty-four seconds, but those twenty-four seconds are precious and make everything feel right for once, like a missing piece sliding into place._

 _For twenty-four seconds, Orochimaru is completely at peace.)_

* * *

Orochimaru practices the henge multiple times a day and near constantly while in school. She tests the limits. Henging parts of her body like a hand or part of her legs and her clothes, making them something different entirely and trying to hold it as long as she can while dividing her attention with the lectures. Other times, she only makes a very tiny change that's almost unnoticeable, like the texture of her hair or ever so slightly darkening her skin tone so it looks more human, more like a pale ivory instead of a deathly pallor.

The instructors notice (how could they not?), but say nothing, giving only approving looks on occasion and mentioning among themselves a rising young Kunoichi who might just graduate within a year, the youngest yet, a once-in-a-generation genius. There were mutterings that if Tobirama wasn't so busy, he might take one last student. However, with the war brewing on the horizon, one of his three students might take the position of sensei instead, as it was about time for them to do so.

Orochimaru isn't deaf, nor is she oblivious, but she can't help but be worried over how they will react to her failing the graduation exam, as much as she can realistically get away with.

It doesn't bode well in her mind.


	12. Festival & Liveliness

There had been talk of a festival for weeks now, celebrating the founding of Konoha and how it had been almost twenty years since then. It was to spite the looming war that everyone knew about but avoided mentioning, defiance in the face of adversity. Preparations were intense and made for more D-ranks to accept at slightly lower pay rates than normal. More D-ranks for Orochimaru to accept in a given day and accomplish. More pay than more for a shorter wait until independence.

She was going to get that apartment after winter break, even if it killed her. Just like her clan.

...Okay, maybe not for death, but definitely at her sanity's expense.

In any case, the festival. It had finally arrived, and simultaneously became the single most magical thing that Orochimaru had ever experienced in her short (long) life.

She wore her best haori (one that managed to avoid fraying-so-bad-it-needed-crafty-patching-and-or-stitching or too much staining despite being handed down a few too many times) over a dark blue kosode and a black slightly-too-short hakama. Perhaps it wasn't as pretty or colorful as some of the other variants her peers wore, and it might not have been as traditional as a yukata, but she was quite fond of it. A muted burnt orange with long yellow, purple, and green stripes.

It would do.

The village had stood in silent vigil a scant few minutes before sunset, gathered in front of the Hokage tower, faces raised towards their leader standing above on a balcony, waiting. Orochimaru was a touch too short to see him over the tall throngs of people surrounding her tiny form, but she could hear just fine from how silent everyone else was, intent on hearing each and every word... The respect and power a kage held was nothing to sneeze at.

Much like how she had been enchanted at the orientation she had the first day of the Academy, Orochimaru was spellbound by the village leader's words. He gave a brief history of before the village's founding before moving onto a short summary of all the accomplishments and suffering Konoha had celebrated and endured since then. Finishing with, "While the sun may set, the Will of Fire burns on, lighting our way with hope of a better future and a determination to see it through."

It was as he said this, the last rays of light from the sun finally disappeared behind the treetops and, practically seamlessly, all the lanterns and torches were lit with fire jutsu from Konoha's police force. A cheer reverberated through the crowd and fireworks were lit, exploding overhead and sending bright colors skittering. Her bones trembled and shook with each boom and a thrill ran through her.

It was like she was back home in the middle of summer, the air humid with a refreshing breeze carrying the night sounds of crickets and frogs, people laughing and shouting in pure joy with each new firework. She could smell food being grilled on an open flame and some fried food, wood smoke and the crisp after-burn of multiple fire jutsu.

Orochimaru found herself being lost in the crowd and at some point found some grilled squid to enjoy quietly, watching as the world continued to whirl around herself merrily. People leaning out of apartment windows shouting excitedly while others answered them just as enthusiastically from the streets. People of all ages playing games of skill at stands and bursts of laughter and song coming from places serving drinks. Off to the side of the square Orochimaru was in, was a large stage where some Akamichi beat on drums, some being bigger than the clansfoke when they did their trademark jutsu. A pack of Inuzuka dog of varying sizes stampeded past with children riding on their backs whooping in excitement.

She loved it.

The thin translucent scales on her arms shone from the flickering lights, appearing otherworldly and beautiful in their own way.

For a moment, she was reminded of New Year's night and the festival that she spent with her mother, of being carried in the woman's strong grasp and her smooth hair tickling Orochimaru's cheek, bringing an herbal and smoky scent of cloves. Of going on top of the nearby mountain where other groups were scattered about sporadically, listening intently to the faraway sounds of a temple bell tolling for the new year.

 _"Happy new year, Musuko... Grow up to be a strong boy, won't you?"_

 _..._

While the view from the mountain was still the best spot in the whole village, the hustle and liveliness of Konoha made her feel more grounded than she had ever been, making it easier to enjoy the festival that much more.

* * *

 **Sorry it took so long, had to think about where I wanted to take this next and I think I have a pretty good idea...**

 **You might see the first Canon character interacting with Orochimaru pretty soon in another chapter or two. Any guesses as to who?**

 **Also, as I have a feeling some people might ask, Orochimaru has a male body, but she is a female and presents herself as one. On her files at the Orphanage and Academy, she's listed as female...but in the immigration forms, she's listed as male.**

 **Eventually, there's going to be some trouble about her gender identity and how people see her and her reputation in general. Lots of conflict and confusion. But for now, most will rightly assume her female.**

 **Hopefully that clears some things up.**


	13. Independent

Orochimaru feels ready, more than ever, to move out; and if her moving out of the orphanage into the Academy Student Housing Projects happens to conveniently coincide with her "slowing progress" in class... Well, she gives nothing away by how pleased she is to have come up with a believable excuse to seemingly slack off. An excuse to explain her future failure in the exams. She'll only really have to account for the instructors being lenient as they "know her skill level" and "know she can do better", which suits her just fine.

Aside from that, though, she just really glad to have her own space. Mostly because this means no more freezing nights in bed during winter with its freezing rains and brisk winds. Sharing a cramped futon with two sheet coveters means a half-frozen and sluggish Orochimaru. Her mind hazy and slow as she struggles to dethaw in the morning; the persistent chill making it nearly impossible without flaring her chakra for a quick defrost.

Instead of buying other furniture or decorations or anything not immediately needed, Orochimaru used those funds towards the thickest futon and blankets she could find. Then bought as many pillows as she could muster, as soft as what was available.

In her studio apartment, there were no chairs or tables or couches or dressers or bookcases or decor of any kind. Just her nest.

The rest of her things in her apartment were what little scrolls she inherited from her clan, her merge school supplies, and the clothes she had claimed as hers from the Orphanage. She owned five bowls, a pan, a pot, a knife, a few forks and spoons, and some mismatching glasses. Besides rent (which included her utilities), toiletries, and food, Orochimaru would not be purchasing anything else for several months, which wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

It would be worth it in the long run, as Orochimaru would rather have a soft and warm bed than a tiny table for the already tiny apartment. And sure, she would have loved to have books of her own to mark up and use as she pleased, but borrowing library books could work just as well in the meantime.

She's independent, and one step closer to her long-time goal of living a simple life in obscurity.

* * *

 **A/N: this chapter was hard to write for some reason;;; I had the ideas that I wanted to convey, but it was extremely difficult for some reason;;; Oh well.**

 **It's going to be two more chapters before we'll see a canon character, just a heads up.**

 **Also, good news for those of you who follow my other Naruto fic! I finished edited and fiddling with it! Expect updates for it this Thanksgiving or somewhere thereabouts.**


	14. Plots & Foils

"Zarameyuki-kun," the chūnin examiner began, only to stop, seemingly at a lose of words.

"Yes, sensei?" Orochimaru answered, tone perfectly respectful with just a hint of muted curiosity and a tinge of lethargy. As if she had no idea why her homeroom teacher would pull her aside after the main lesson before she could go to kunoichi class. As if she was oblivious of all the concerned looks various staff had been throwing her way for the past two months and meaningful looks her main instructors had been giving her in the last three weeks alone, all in the hopes to catch her eye and get her to come to them instead of the other way around. As if her class ranking hadn't been suffering and her atrocious grades failed to burn a hole in her pride.

As if she hadn't been purposefully flubbing every test and spar for the past forty-three days since she officially moved out of the orphanage and became financially independent.

The chūnin sighed, coincidently enough being the same one who had called the names of students to separate them into classes all those months ago. It was starting to seem likely that he was the head instructor at the academy, the equivalent of a principal. She hadn't seen him much, except at the occasional assessment test, rare school assemblies, or when he was divvying up D-ranks among the fourth years... Which meant he was very aware of exactly of just how many extra D-ranks she had been taking outside of school and, given by the folder in front of him, very aware of her current financial situation. She could almost make out a candid photo of her up to her arms in fertilizer as she planted and weeded one of the many vegetable gardens Konoha's community had speckled randomly throughout the village. She looked exhausted.

(she had been exhausted, but that was beside the point)

Orochimaru fought back a satisfied smirk, instead allowing her face to slip into what looked like a stifled grimace. Taking on a tone of reluctance, she mumbled, "This isn't about me taking D-ranks outside of school, is it?"

"...No," he answered a moment too long for a comfortable pause, radiating awkwardness. "Not entirely, anyway."

"Then why am I here after class, Sensei?" The woman-turned-child finally prompted, taking mercy on the chūnin. He probably wasn't forced into this position often, usually it was a trouble-making or slacking student that would be called into the office for cases like these, because they had the tendency of being disruptive as well as failing. Orphans like her... Well, in most cases the instructors wouldn't bother, so long as they weren't causing undue mischief. But Orochimaru was unfortunately not like most cases, because she had Potential and would be a Good Little Asset for the War... if she weren't failing. So, obviously, that was why they were here and her sensei so uncertain as to how to approach her: she fit none of the usual parameters.

"I have a feeling you know why," he speculated quietly with a sigh. "But, I will be direct, at the rate you are going, Zarameyuki-kun, you will not being passing with the rest of your peers, by an uncomfortable margin. The graduation exam is March; that's not much longer, only about a handful of weeks." He gave Orochimaru a significant look, tone frank, "You haven't been studying."

 _What have you been doing instead beyond D-ranks?_

"I have not," Orochimaru agreed serenely. "I still train, though."

 _So, I haven't been slacking, per se; I just haven't been working on the academic areas of my education._

"And it shows, you rose two ranks in taijitsu and your accuracy percentages in aerial projectiles has grown by a little over ten percent," the examiner allowed before sighing. His eyes were tired and corner of his mouth downturned in a grimace. "However, that only accounts for about sixty-percent of your grade, and you have only just been scraping by in maintaining your status."

 _If you wanted to pass by the physical test alone, you would need to do far better than you are. Would need to practice more and have extra tutoring. Would need to be older to compare with other students three years your senior. But your aren't, and so are only above average._

"...Does this mean I'm going to be held back a year, Sensei? Even though I haven't had the chance to _try_? That's not fair!" Orochimaru sounded upset, sounded frustrated and outraged like any child her supposed age would. She thought of being forced to pass so she could fight in the War, of being forced into this shinobi lifestyle with no choice, of being trapped in the wrong body and being unable to anything about it, of just about everything in the past four years really. There were a lot of things that she was actually aggravated with, and it didn't take much to get her visibly annoyed at the thought of them.

The examiner spread out his hands in a helpless gesture, lips pursed grimly. "There's not much that can be done for that, if you can't move forward and keep up then you'll have to relearn the basics... Normally, anyway."

Her guts freeze as something like cold dread settles in her stomach. "Sensei?"

He sighs, rubbing his face tiredly with a hand, "The Hokage has gotten involved."

And all of her carefully laid plans came crumbling down in an instant.


End file.
